Confessions
by Gun Brooke
Summary: Andy's mother corners her over the phone. Miranda overhears the mentioning of her name during the heated argument and demands an explanation. Andy knows she can't tell Miranda the truth about her feelings—or can she?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own a single thing regarding The Devil Wears Prada. I do take ownership of the plotline.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>NC-17 – I kid you not  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Andy/Miranda  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Andy's mother corners her over the phone. Miranda overhears the mentioning of her name during the heated argument and demands an explanation. Andy knows she can't tell Miranda the truth about her feelings—or can she?

A/N: The story is finished (promised myself I would not put up anything that wasn't written in its entirety.) and just need editing before the rest of it goes up tomorrow (Nov 12.)

Confessions

A MirAndy short story

By Gun Brooke

_Andrea_

"But mom..." Andy hissed into her personal cell phone, hoping nobody would overhear.

"Your father and I have decided to finally stop enabling your unhealthy lifestyle."

Unhealthy lifestyle? Andy stared at the small fridge opposite of her, not aware of what she was looking at. She was busy hiding in the small kitchenette in Runway's office, trying to appease her mother. On her lunch break, she was still completely stressed out that her mother would call her at work. Andy supposed after avoiding her parents for more than two weeks, she owed them to pick up the phone. She'd thought the conversation would be quick and had forfeited eating to just be done with their usual tirade. "I'm not sure what you think I do that's unhealthy, mom."

"Working as a—a—a second rate gopher when you could've gone to Stanford!" Her mother spat the words, her frustration obvious. "And fetching coffee and scarves. Doing a job a trained monkey could do when you were supposed to _write_. What were you thinking Andy? The least you could've done was to get a job at a magazine that doesn't demean women? That woman does nothing but induce bulimia and anorexia. She promotes shallowness and young girls grow up thinking as long as they resemble their favorite Barbie-doll—"

"Stop it." Furious now and her eyes brimming with tears, Andy raised her voice. "You clearly haven't read one single article that Runway publishes. Not to mention I do a hell of a lot more than fetch coffee. You never want to know what I really do here. Whenever Runway is the topic of discussion, you start yelling at me and you _never_ listen."

"Listen? Well, _listen_ to yourself speaking like that to me. She's brainwashed you." Her mother laughed joylessly. "I'd put your father on the phone, but he's so upset and worried, he can't talk."

"He's a freaking lawyer and he can't talk to his own daughter? And tell me again, please, how you are enabling me in my unhealthy lifestyle. I'd like to know this."

"You know very well we've put money in your account every month since Nate left you."

_Left_ her? Oh, great. In her parents' mind she was clearly not only the one to blame, but damaged goods since Nate left _her._ "You make it sound like there's something wrong with me. Actually, we broke up. He moved to Boston. He's very happy there, dating some chef and last I heard they were going to move in together." Andy drew a deep breath. "Besides, if you'd checked your account, you'd see that I keep refunding the money you send. I'm making do here." Manhattan was hideously expensive and Runway didn't exactly pay well, but she wasn't going to let her mother know one of the reasons she came to be almost a size two was surviving on noodle soup, yoghurt and hard bread.

"There's nothing wrong with you. Not really. Nothing that can't be fixed." Her mother sounded calmer, but Andy bit her lip so hard, she could taste the blood. The hurtful words pierced the armor around her heart she erected every time she spoke to her parents these days. "Even the situation with Nate can be rectified if you explain to him you're quitting that god awful job—"

"Again, you're not listening." Her voice barely audible now, as it was hard to swallow past whatever lump obstructed her airways. He's with someone else. We broke up. I'm not quitting. And you haven't answered all of my question."

"What do you mean?"

"My _unhealthy_ _lifestyle_. It can't be about my job. A job is a job. You said lifestyle."

Her mother cleared her throat. "This is embarrassing and I shouldn't have to point it out, Andy. You know what I mean. Your infatuation with your boss. Your _female_, twice-your-age, boss. She obviously isn't above taking advantage of a young girl's hero worship and use her any way she sees fit."

Andy gaped. She couldn't speak for a few moments; merely blink at the persistent tears. "I can't believe you said that," she finally managed. "Why would you say that? About Miranda of all people! You make her sound predatory and…and…"

"As I said. It's unhealthy. We've seen this develop, your father and I, and it worried us so much. Still, we hoped you'd get over it. We were sure it was a phase. That you'd see sense."

"Andrea?"

Andy jerked and stared in horror at Miranda Priestly, her boss, the woman her mother thought she had an unhealthy attachment to. "M-Miranda?"

"She's _there_?" Andy's mother hissed.

"What's going on? We can hear you all the way to the elevators." Miranda looked back and forth between Andy's tearstained face and the trembling hand clutching the phone.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. It's a private call. I'll end it—"

"She can't decide if you can speak to your parents or not," her mother yelled. "Don't listen to her. Just—walk—away."

"Why are you crying?" Miranda said, her voice low and impossibly soft.

"I'm not—I'm not—" Andy wiped quickly at the telltale signs on her cheeks. She wished she could just disappear. Sink through the floor down to Auto Universe's offices, or something.

"She made you cry?" her mother asked.

"No," Andy said, pressing the cell closer to her ear. "You did, Mom." At least her mother couldn't blame these tears on Miranda. Granted, Andy had shed tears over the unrequited, hopeless love she felt for the woman standing before her, but that was different. Those tears were from a foolish, ever-hopeful heart. These tears were those of a betrayed child knowing she may never be able to trust in unconditional love from her parents ever again.

"It's your inner voice telling you I'm right," Andy's mother insisted. "You know I'm right when I tell her you need to leave Runway, New York, and most of all, forget all about that _woman_!"

"I have to go, Mom. We need to let some time pass before we talk again, all right? I have a lot to think about. Really. You've made your point and now I have a lot to…to consider."

"Oh, thank God," her mother gushed, suddenly sounding cheerful and relieved. Clearly she thought she was winning Andy over. "You'll see things, and _her_, for what they are. That's my girl. Now, take care of yourself, honey." A click proved the call had ended. Andy tucked her phone into the pocket of her slacks.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm on my break, but I didn't mean for any of that to be loud." She moved as if to pass Miranda when her boss shocked her by stepping into her path.

"Not so fast," Miranda said. "From what I heard, what we all heard, your mother thinks this environment is unhealthy for you?" She tapped her lower lip with her index finger.

Andy wanted to howl. How much had Miranda overheard? She couldn't care less about the rest of her co-workers, only what Miranda thought. "She's, uhm, she worries for me. Big city and all." She hoped Miranda would accept that half assed explanation.

"Unhealthy." Miranda seemed as hung up on the word as Andy had been. "And predatory? Disturbing words and both of them in the same sentence as my name." The low growl in her voice was barely there, but evident to Andy who knew all the nuances of the woman before her.

"My mother has many things wrong. Particularly…mainly, about you. I'm sorry." Oh, God, she was going to be fired. Andy just knew it. She had repeated what her mother said, stupidly unaware of how far her voice carried. Had she said 'predatory' out loud? Really?

"I would agree, but I also need to know what prompted her to use those particular words when she talked to you, about me."

Damn. Oh, fuck. Andy knew she was finished. Done. Runway would soon be a memory and the memory of Miranda a never-healing scar. Talk about unhealthy. "Can't we just forget about my mother calling me at work and chalk it up to her being a bit…exaggerating?" Andy looked imploringly at Miranda who in turn tilted her head just so.

"No. This is a discussion that must take place. That said, Runway's kitchenette is not the right locale for it even if I'm sure the rest of the office staff is dying to learn more. Deliver the book tonight. The twins are at a slumber party. The townhouse will protect our privacy."

_And that way she can throttle me and dispose of my body without anyone knowing..._ Andy wanted to object. She wanted to tell Miranda it was Emily's week to deliver the book. She should lie and say she had plans as today was Friday, but no—of course she didn't. Andy knew what she had to say. Facing the regal woman before her and refusing to look away, she said: "Yes, Miranda."

_Miranda_

Miranda looked down at her restless hands in dismay. She never fidgeted. In fact, she had very few ticks or tells, having perfected her poker face after so many years at her level in the publishing industry. Sure, she used her voice, her over-the-glasses glances, and the way she rubbed the frames of those glasses, or her index finger, across her lower lip. Such habits had proved useful to instill fear in people. Or at least uncertainty or an onset of nerves.

Thinking of Andrea, she started pulling at her fingers again. This was really one of Andrea's ticks. Whenever she was ill at ease, or nervous, Andrea tugged at her fingers and shook them. Had she carried this young woman in her mind and heart for so long now, she'd taken over her habits as well? Miranda huffed at herself. That was beyond ridiculous.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realized Andrea would arrive with the Book and the dry cleaning, at any moment. Was she ready to interrogate Andrea further? Surely, no matter what the young woman said, it would be some sort of excuse, or explanation, which would only bring Miranda heartache.

For the eighteen months Andrea had worked for her, Miranda had struggled with puzzling emotions that just wouldn't be eradicated no matter how she tried. She deemed them ridiculous, pathetic, and certainly ill advised, but that didn't matter to her irrational heart. Not to mention her treacherous body. Eventually, all it took was for Andrea to enter a room for Miranda's arousal to kick in. She even had to stop wearing the web thin La Perla thongs as she kept ruining them beyond measure.

Miranda grabbed her glass of Merlot, sipping it. She thought of the first time she'd had to actually masturbate at the office to make it through an afternoon of important meetings. Andrea had spent a good ten minutes hovering over Miranda's shoulder, pointing things out on the computer and in the folder before them. Her scent, something plebeian like vanilla and citrus, permeated the air and when Andrea's long hair caressed Miranda's cheek and shoulder for the umpteenth time, Miranda stood so fast, she nearly clocked her assistant on the chin. Murmuring a half-hearted apology, she hurried to her personal restroom, locking the door behind her with trembling hands.

She had tried cold water first. Dabbing it on her neck and her wrists, her pulse points, she stared at her glowing face in the mirror. It was as if she saw another Miranda. An alternate universe version of herself; someone with burning eyes, half open mouth, and heaving breasts.

In her mind, when imagining how Andrea brushed against her at her desk, she easily pictured herself turning her head and pressing her greedy lips against Andrea's neck. Undecided if she then would nibble her way up to that delicate earlobe, or suck hard enough at the skin to leave her mark, Miranda struggled to maintain her self-control. It quickly eluded her as her one-track-brain saw only Andrea.

The way she'd brushed against Miranda's shoulder, chuckling nervously at a silly typo someone else had made. How her breath caressed Miranda's cheek like a foreshadowing of what Andrea's lips could feel like.

Miranda gripped the sink before her and pressed against it. The edge hit against her pubic bone, stoking the fire inside her belly. Appalled at herself, Miranda rubbed against the sink, desperate for relief. Her thighs trembled and when the blunt pressure wasn't enough, she pulled her skirt up, knowing she had to supply a more direct touch.

Her La Perla panties were indeed soaked. They might as well not have been there, judging from how intensely her own touch felt. How would it feel if it was Andrea who stood behind her, hiking Miranda's skirt up and pushing her fingers in where they belonged, perhaps even from behind…?

Miranda stared at herself in the mirror as the orgasm she needed so desperately began to build. The idea of Andrea having her way with her in the Runway executive restroom was all it took. Rocking against her fingers, Miranda pressed hard against her clitoris, coaxing it to surrender. And surrender it did. Miranda almost fell to the floor as the lightning bolts shot through her. She had to bite the knuckles of her free hand not to scream.

Out of breath, and annoyed at how vivid this particular memory was, Miranda forced her mind back to the present. She sipped more of her wine and glanced at the clock. Any moment now.

_Andrea_

Andy hung the dry cleaning and as much as she'd rather place the book on the usual table, she knew it wouldn't fly. Grabbing the large binder, she glanced into the house, trying to judge where Miranda was.

"I'm upstairs, Andrea," Miranda's cool voice stated.

Ah, she was in her study. Andy walked up the stairs. She'd only gone up once before, which nearly got her fired. The rascal twins had tricked her into delivering the Book directly to Miranda and Andy had ended up witnessing her boss arguing with her then husband. Or, as it were, the husband hissing at his wife, as Miranda tried to explain and appease him. Andy always believed Miranda's idea to send her on an impossible mission to obtain the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript stemmed from fury and humiliation. For her second assistant to see this side of the dragon lady sure had set Miranda off. And still, was this what Miranda wanted Andy to do now? Explain and appease? Crawl in the dust and beg not to be fired? Part of Andy feared there wasn't very much she wouldn't do to remain in Miranda's presence. She didn't like that about herself a whole lot, but it was the truth.

The corridor was fairly dark; the only light came from the room to the far left. Andy wasn't sure about the layout, but she had a general idea. The study was right by the stairs and the room at the far end had to be one of the bedrooms.

"Shit," Andy whispered to herself. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Such language," Miranda said calmly, from the doorway, illuminated from behind. This meant her face was in the shadows, unreadable. "Come on. In here."

Miranda's bedroom. Miranda's fucking bedroom. Andy stopped on the threshold, but knew this would irritate Miranda. If they were going to talk civilly with each other, Andy wouldn't get anywhere with an annoyed boss.

"Sit. You like red wine, I believe?" Miranda held up an empty glass toward Andy.

"Oh. Ehm. Yes, thank you." Huh. This was weird. Miranda had set up a tray of cheeses and grapes to compliment the wine. They were having food together in Miranda's bedroom? How was that even possible? Or was it really for someone else, a strapping young lover perhaps, and Miranda just offered Andy the wine to soften her up so she could interrogate her and kick her out before the toy-boy arrived? She harnessed her insane brain before it conjured up even crazier scenarios.

"Sit down. Please." Her voice even softer now, Miranda motioned for Andy to take a seat and followed suit.

Sinking down into the embrace of the soft blue chenille armchair, Andy knew her thoughts were paranoid and ridiculous, but for heaven's sake, she was close to panicking. She desperately wanted to drink a large gulp of the ruby red wine before here, but was certain she would spill it all over the cream colored carpet the way her hands trembled.

"I'm sorry your job and your relationship with me cause friction between you and your mother." Miranda leaned back into the chair and twirled the wine in her glass. Her eyes held a guarded expression, but there was also something else, something that made Andy think Miranda was a bit nervous. And what was that? She was sorry? And what relationship was she talking about? This was nuts. Andy realized she needed to say something.

"Not your fault," she managed huskily. "I have very involved, hands-on parents. A little too hands-on." She laughed unhappily. "Take note, Miranda. Hovering parents aren't that great once the child is an adult. They really aren't."

"Am I wrong when I surmise your mother blames me for any perceived wrongdoing on your part? You can tell me the truth. I honestly couldn't care less what they think of me." Miranda lingeringly crossed her legs and sipped her wine. Her eyes never shifted from Andy's and she, in turn, couldn't have looked away even if she'd wanted to.

"In a sense. My parents have become more and more opposed to my life in New York. Dad to the point where he goes into a rage if we talk about it for more than ten minutes." She blinked against the threatening tears. "It's kind of funny how they used to be against Nate and I living together. When we broke up, they suddenly loved everything about him. They think he left me, when, actually, it was a mutual decision." Grimacing, Andy shrugged. "Sorry. I'm sure this bores you to tears."

"It doesn't." Miranda placed her glass on the small table between them. "What would you say is the major reason why they involve me in your family dispute? And just to be clear, even if I don't care how they regard me, I would never wish to be a wedge between you and your parents." She spoke carefully, enunciating every word with precision.

"I used to complain about the hours and some of the tasks," Andy confessed. "I'd call home and I'd tell them about six am coffee runs and of course, Dad was with me when you tried to get home from Florida during a hurricane. These things have gotten stuck in their memory. They don't want to hear about all the other things I do, how much I've learned because of you and Runway." So Miranda cared about her enough to want her to have a good relationship with her parents? Andy's heart picked up speed and she drew a deep trembling breath.

"I don't think I've had an assistant who hasn't balked at the demands in the beginning. Admittedly, you have exceeded every single one of them in how you anticipate my needs and make my days infinitely easier. That's why I've given you more complex assignments. I hate wasting talent, no matter what my minions at the office think." She smiled wryly. "That said, I don't think that's the only reason your mother criticized your _lifestyle_. What do you think she meant?"

Andy was still trying to wrap her mind around the "exceeded every single one of them" part and now she wanted to just disappear. Her parents would be thrilled when Miranda fired her for being totally inappropriate. That would solve their problem as she couldn't stay more than a month or so in New York without an income.

"She thinks I'm infatuated with you," Andy murmured, pushing her shoulders up around her ears. "I'm sorry." Oh, God, this was it. Now the dragon would show up, flare her nostrils and breathe her fire until Andy was turned into one of her medium rare steaks. She straightened her back and refused to cower anymore. _Go out with a bang, Sachs._

Miranda sat perfectly still, as if she wasn't breathing. A marble statue of perfection, Andy thought, but when she looked closer, she saw fine tremors in Miranda's hands.

"You're sorry. Are you regretful she thinks this or that it's true?" Miranda whispered, her eyes narrowing.

Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, Andy dared to sip from her wine. A stalling tactic of course, but eventually she would have to answer. Should she lie? Try to laugh it off? She berated herself for even thinking about such idiotic options. Miranda would see right through her and this…this moment of shared understanding would be lost and never come back. The idea of never being allowed into this room again, of never sitting down with Miranda like this, began to shatter hear heart. This was one of those moments when she had to go all-in.

"I'm not sorry it's true," Andy said, setting down her glass with remarkably steady hands. "I am sorry it crosses the boundaries of what's appropriate in a workplace. I never meant for you, or anyone else, to know. I can't help how I feel, but it's also up to me to…contain my emotions. You see what I mean? I shouldn't blame mom, but if she hadn't ambushed me like she did, when I was so vulnerable—" Biting down on the last words before she said too much, Andy shrunk back into the chair. She'd already been truthful enough.

"Don't berate yourself. You haven't been inappropriate. In fact, you tried to pull back and it was _I_ who asked you here tonight. What does that tell you?" Miranda shifted in her chair, gripping the armrests harder. Could she really be nervous?

Andy thought fast. Only moments ago, her gut reaction would've suggested Miranda didn't want any witnesses when she chewed her out and then fired her. Not now. Not when Andy could see her red tinted cheeks, the still visible tremors in her hands, and how she virtually squirmed as Andy scrutinized her. "You really wanted to know." Andy tilted her head. "You're…you're not indifferent. To me." Now there was a bold move if there ever was one. If Miranda gave one of her alligator smiles followed by one of her rather nasty snickers, Andy would die. There'd be no need for any fire spewing dragon tricks…she would just shrivel up into a dry husk all by herself and blow away in the wind.

"No. I'm not indifferent." Miranda's voice was husky now, and it was her turn to swallow hard. "This has been going on for a long time. Too long."

"What? What has?" Afraid she had totally missed the point of what Miranda was saying; Andy clasped her hands on her lap.

"This unresolved _thing_ between us. For heaven's sake, if we don't find a solution, I can't even be in the same room with you anymore." Miranda sounded angry, but her eyes shone bright blue. She sucked her lower lip in between her teeth, extending a hand toward Andy. "Come."

Andy blinked. Not quite knowing how, she stood and took three steps over to Miranda's chair. She came close to laugh nervously at how conditioned she was to obeying and accommodating this woman. "Yes, Miranda?" she said, out of breath.

Looking up at her, her head tilted back as she scanned Andy from head to toe, Miranda wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. She took Andy's left hand in hers, tugging gently at it. "Come."

Was there ever a time when Andy would've questioned such a request? She honestly didn't know. Andy kicked off her three inch pumps and knelt before Miranda.

To be concluded in part 2


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own a single thing regarding The Devil Wears Prada. I do take ownership of the plotline.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>NC-17 – I kid you not  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Andy/Miranda  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Andy's mother corners her over the phone. Miranda overhears the mentioning of her name during the heated argument and demands an explanation. Andy knows she can't tell Miranda the truth about her feelings—or can she?

A/N: The story is finished (promised myself I would not put up anything that wasn't written in its entirety.) and just need editing before the rest of it goes up tomorrow (Nov 12.)

_  
>Confessions<p>

A MirAndy short story

By Gun Brooke

**Part 2**

_Miranda_

Oh, dear Lord, she couldn't breathe. Andrea had never been more beautiful than she was tonight and here she was, kneeling as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Miranda couldn't stop herself. She didn't even try. Parting her legs as much as the slit in the back of her skirt allowed, she tugged Andrea in between her knees.

"Miranda!" Andrea almost fell into her arms, but managed to brace herself against the armrests.

Pressing her lips, finally, finally, to Andrea's full, half-open mouth, developed into the single most wonderful kiss Miranda had ever experienced. She moaned blissfully into Andrea's mouth, dipped her tongue inside as she yearned to find its counterpart. Miranda didn't have to wait long. Andrea wrapped her arms around her neck and met Miranda's tongue with her own. She had _known_ Andrea would taste sweet, but how could she ever have guessed this young woman would be this intoxicating? Miranda pushed her hands into Andrea's thick, chestnut hair and held her closer. Cursing how her skirt restricted her from getting even closer, Miranda rubbed the inside of her left calf along Andrea's hip.

Eventually, they needed more air than what breathing through their noses supplied. Miranda pulled back a fraction of an inch, her hands still tangled in Andrea's silky hair. "You see?"

"See what?" Andrea asked dreamily, her eyes half-closed.

"How this had to happen? How feelings like this have to have an outlet?" Miranda wasn't pleased with her choice of words, but she hoped Andrea would understand.

"Yes." Andrea cupped Miranda's cheeks with both hands. "I had no idea. I mean, I had so many dreams and fantasies, but I thought that was all it was. My wishful thinking."

Miranda acted without thinking, unbuttoning Andrea's blouse. Uncovering a lace bra, her hands deftly found the clasp in between Andrea's breasts. "May I?" she asked belatedly.

Andrea whimpered and her head fell back. Her hair cascaded down her back like a chocolate river. "Yes. Oh, God, yes."

The firmness of Andrea's breasts, combined with how her rock hard nipples dug into Miranda's palms, urged her to initiate yet another kiss. Miranda ran her tongue along Andrea's mouth, sucked at her lower lip before she deepened the caress. Her hands moved of their own volition and massaged Andrea's breasts. Miranda couldn't remember ever reveling in such satiny skin.

"Mm. Miranda?" Andrea murmured against Miranda's mouth as their lips found each other again. "There's a lovely looking bed."

"Hm?" Unwilling to stop, Miranda kissed down Andrea's neck and up again. The slight dampness to the skin beneath her lips reinforced the sweetness of Andrea's scent. For once not giving a damn about brands or labels, Miranda inhaled what she'd long ago had decided had to be Andrea's signature scent. Nobody but her smelled this sweet, this…_good._

"There's a bed. Over there. Big." Smiling broadly, Andrea caressed Miranda's cheekbones with her thumbs. "Much more comfortable, don't you think?"

"Yes. I'm not sure I can let go of you long enough to move—Andrea!" Miranda gasped as Andrea merely broke free and stood. She was about to object, fiercely, and drag her back down, when Andrea let her blouse slip of her shoulders and fall onto the floor. The lace bra went the same way.

"You better not have changed your mind about wanting me, Miranda," Andrea said, unzipping her skirt. She shimmied it down along her hips and legs and stepped out of it. Putting one foot on the bed, she rolled down her left thigh high stocking, slowly, and then the right. Now she was only dressed in salmon colored lace boy-briefs.

"I'm not known for dithering. Once I know my own mind, I never waiver." Miranda stood and sauntered over to Andrea. She saw how her lingering steps made Andrea bite down on her lower lip and how her breathing increased. "Care to assist me? You do it so well, after all." She smiled sweetly and stood motionless before the almost naked young woman, devouring her with her eyes. Andrea's skin was pale, smooth, and virtually flawless. The dusty pink nipples she'd felt against her palms only moments ago, looked good enough to devour. Miranda promised herself she was going to do just that.

"I have had extensive practice in assisting you," Andrea murmured and pulled Miranda's blouse from her skirt. The buttons opened willingly and Miranda shivered as Andrea caressed it off her shoulders. It only took a few moments for Andrea to remove everything, but the lace panties. "Come," Andrea said, much like Miranda had done. She tugged Miranda up on the bed, holding on to her hand as her eyes greedily explored her body over and over. "You're so amazing. And sexy." Pushing Miranda down on the pillows, Andrea kissed her, tasted her lips and tongue again, until they were both gasping for air. "So fucking hot."

Miranda was shaking so badly now, all she wanted was for Andrea to take her. The lace panties chafed at her soaked folds and she squirmed impatiently. Freeing a hand from Andrea's hair, she shoved the offending underwear down her thighs, moaning in relief when she managed to kick them all the way off.

"Oh, wow." Andrea watched the thin lace fall off the bed. "Guess I should make sure we're on the same level."

"I was right. You _are_ smart." Miranda rolled them and removed Andrea's briefs, her hands steady now. As much as she yearned for Andrea to stop the agony between her legs, it was now secondary as she had an unobstructed view of the naked body beneath her. Hot, damp, smelling divine, and moving in a way that made it clear to Miranda just how much Andrea wanted her in return. "How do you feel?" Miranda voice was so husky, she had to clear it. "Horny?"

"You have no idea." Andrea seemed to consider her words. "I take that back. I think you know exactly how I feel. You're…very…" She slid her hand up Miranda's thigh and in between them. "Oh, God. You're very wet."

The matter-of-fact words delivered with Andrea's alto timbre voice were all it took. Images flickered again through Miranda's head, of her getting herself off in the Runway exec bathroom, at home in this very bed, during long, lonely nights when the thoughts of Andrea's smile was the only thing that kept her warm. Imagining Andrea's long, curvaceous body against her own, arms and legs wrapping around her, touching, trembling…and that voice, husky with desire…wanting her. Wanting _her_.

Gentle, but steady, Andrea's fingers parted Miranda's soaked folds. Miranda kept their gazes locked together. She had to look into Andrea's eyes and see every single emotion flicker there.

Not even blinking, Andrea caressed Miranda in small, insistent circles. The sensation was so intense, Miranda wailed quietly, undulating against the relentless touch. This was close to painful, but she still needed more.

"Too much?" Andrea murmured and broke their gaze by pressing her lips against the upper curve of Miranda's left breast. "Should I stop?"

Was she serious? Miranda shook her head. "D-don't you dare." Miranda knew she'd die from perpetual arousal if Andrea didn't make her come. Soon. "Go inside. Now."

Chuckling in Miranda's ear now, Andrea shook her head. "We're far beyond you giving orders, Miranda."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just do it." Miranda trembled as she clutched at Andrea's upper arms. Then her voice sank an octave, and she spoke past the tremors in her vocal chords. "Please?"

Perhaps it was that last word, or the fact Andrea seemed to be ablaze as well, but slowly, maddeningly, Andrea pressed several fingers inside her. It stung in a glorious way. Miranda groaned as Andrea filled her.

"Now I'm inside, and God, you're hot…and drenched. You really must want this." Andrea whispered hoarsely in Miranda's ear. "Have you been on edge for this all day?"

Grunting at the slow thrusts, an old, rigid part of Miranda tried to ignore such an intimate question. Telling a lover something like that, for her, was just not something she ever did. Sex, until now, had been a way to unwind, a method to relax your body, your mind, but not especially tied to deep feelings, or even a certain person, to tell the truth. And now, neither of that was true anymore. Now this, sex, _lovemaking_, was all about Andrea. It was all about the bond between them, this infuriating, indestructible bond that had Miranda acting enough out of character to feel possessed by some unknown entity.

"You," Miranda whimpered. No matter how annoyingly wondrous she felt, it was important Andrea knew these emotions and their physical manifestation was all because of how Miranda felt for her. Despite being inside this molten, red-tinted haze, Miranda still recognized how vital it was Andrea knew she was the one. Without her, there'd be none of this. "Must be you."

Andrea's full lips descended on Miranda's neck, nibbling her, biting her. "And you," she gushed against Miranda's damp skin. "Only you, Miranda. For a long time."

"For too long." Rolling her hips in wave after wave, Miranda tried to reach the orgasm that would finally let her reason like a normal person. Being this aroused and so desperate for Andrea to bring her release, made her feel as if she was having an out-of-body experience, which in turn was of course ridiculous. Why didn't Andrea move her fingers more? Harder? Couldn't she tell Miranda was going out of her mind? What was she waiting for?

"Harder." Miranda sobbed. "It hurts," she said, trying to explain, but knew she wasn't doing it very well. "I need more."

"Miranda…I have you." Dipping her head, Andrea sucked Miranda's nipple into her mouth, clamping down on it with her teeth. At the same time, she picked up speed and began pushing deeper inside Miranda. Sparks ignited from between Miranda's legs, travelled up through her abdomen and down her thighs. Barely able to draw new breaths, Miranda knew she'd never responded like this to anyone else. Nobody had ever branded her this way, made her wail and whimper as tears ran down her face. Something had to be wrong with her. Didn't it? Or were this simply all her feelings for Andrea, all this fucking _love_ that was oozing from her every pore as her body readied itself?

"You're so hot around my fingers," Andrea whispered. "I can feel your pulse, your heart. Beating so fast."

"Close now…c-close." Shocked at how difficult it turned out to be to reach that final step, to take that last leap toward climax, Miranda squirmed against Andrea's hand. She wasn't sure if she was afraid of giving in, handing herself over, and let the last of her guard down—or if she merely was doomed to sit on the precipice and never allow herself to disappear into that red haze.

"Let it go, Miranda," Andrea murmured in her ear. "Just let it come. Here. With me." She twisted her fingers, curled them, effectively pushing Miranda toward what she desired the most—and that which was her worst fear. Losing control. But this was with _her. _With Andrea.

"Andrea…" Miranda moaned the name that stood for so much. She'd invested more into this woman than she'd done with any of her husbands—more than all of them put together, in fact. There was no logical reason why she'd be so wary of letting go. No reason at all.

"I love you," Andrea whispered. "No matter what, that's the truth. I love you, Miranda."

Miranda heard the words and knew Andrea was without deceit. This knowledge made Miranda arch toward Andrea and now she finally able to let go. The orgasm originated between her legs, where it grew with each thrust, each persistent finger, and spread exponentially.

"Ah!" Convulsing, clinging to Andrea like a person lost at sea, Miranda greedily inhaled more air, only to cry out again when the next orgasmic wave hit. This had never happened to her. Never. Moisture coated her thighs and Andrea's hand, lessening the friction as Andrea slowed the pace until she stopped moving.

"So beautiful." Andrea carefully extracted her fingers. "Oh, God, Miranda, you're amazing." She wrapped her arms around Miranda and held her tight. She trembled and Miranda found herself stroking Andrea's back with unsteady hands.

"_I'm_ amazing?" Miranda croaked. She closed her eyes briefly. "Goodness."

Andrea shifted next to her, rolling them slightly so Miranda ended up half on top of her. "Mm. Yeah. Like that."

Miranda was still reeling from the intense pleasure singing in her veins, but she also felt how Andrea trembled and undulated beneath her. The idea there was more passion awaiting rejuvenated her so fast; she shocked herself by shimmying down Andrea's body. Miranda didn't stop until her lips were at the level of the matted, drenched tuft of hair between Andrea's legs.

"Spread your legs for me," Miranda said, her voice barely audible. This was uncharted territory in more ways than one. Having fully expected to be entirely spent and to have gotten some of this perpetual arousal she felt around Andrea out of her system, she was now ready to virtually devour her lover. Wait. _Lover_? She looked down at Andrea. Breathing shallowly and fast, Andrea regarded Miranda with all the love she'd just spoken of, not to mention with a lot of pent up arousal.

"M-Miranda?" Andrea now parted her legs and rose on her elbows. "Oh, my God."

Miranda couldn't help but become slightly amused at how stunned Andrea looked. She pursed her lips and donned a serious expression. "Anything you particularly don't like?" She blew on the soaked folds before her. "Now would be the time to tell me as I expect to indulge myself very shortly. You know how focused I can get." Chuckling inwardly, Miranda tried to fathom how it suddenly felt all right to be humorous during sex?

"Sure do," Andrea said weakly after clearing her voice. "When it comes to you, I don't think there is anything you could think of doing that I won't like."

"Ah. _Carte blanche_. I'll enjoy that." Winking, to set Andrea's mind at ease that she hadn't suddenly lost her mind, Miranda then pressed her lips against Andrea's inner thigh. The taste was there since Andrea's wetness was comparable to Miranda's. Cautious, but filled with such arousal and desire for this woman, this beautiful creature who offered herself to Miranda with abandon, she parted Andrea's folds and began exploring. Each lap of her tongue brought a gasp from Andrea. Each nibble using her lips or, very carefully, her teeth, elicited a moan. When Miranda sucked Andrea's swollen clitoris into her mouth, massaged it with the flat of her tongue, Andrea actually screamed. She drew sobbing breaths and then grew rigid a few moments. Miranda kept the caress going, paying attention to every minute shift in Andrea's body. When the convulsions began, she eased up on the intensity of the intimate pressure, eventually just flicking the very tip of her tongue across the shivering little protrusion. She had to hold on to Andrea's hips as they moved erratically enough to nearly toss Miranda onto the floor.

"Oh, God. Please." Andrea began pulling at her. "E-enough. Please."

Miranda let go immediately and slid up along Andrea's spent body, kissing her way up to the sadly neglected breasts. Next time, she would start here, make Andrea crazy by prolonging—Gasping, Miranda realized the thoughts her minds just processed. 'Next time.'

"Miranda. You'll be the death of me," Andrea said, out of breath. She was curled up against Miranda, wiping at drops of perspiration from her temples, or was it perhaps tears?

"I doubt it. You're young and strong." Miranda regarded her lover cautiously. "Are you all right?" If not, there surely wouldn't be a 'next time.'

"Yeah. Yes." Andrea wrapped her arm around Miranda's waist. "Even if this would be our only time together, it's still more than I ever could've dreamed of."

_Andrea_

Miranda stiffened within Andy's embrace. "That sounds like the beginning of a dismissal. Or a goodbye."

"Wh-what?" Jerking, Andy pushed up on her elbow. "No. No! That's not what I meant. Not at all." She pressed her lips to Miranda's desperate now to reassure her. It took only a moment for Miranda to kiss her back, but it was enough of a delay to show Andy that her lover had misgivings. "I shouldn't have said it like that. Then again, it's going to take a while to realize this isn't another one of my daydreams or wishful thinking. You've been the one for me for so long, and the whole time you've also been way beyond my reach. Unattainable. Now you're here, we're making love in a way that's fucking amazing, and it is all I could possibly dream about—and more. In a way it's surreal—and in another way, it's so very, very real. I can smell you on me and myself on you. That's pretty down to earth. But then you look at me like you l-love me, and that's the true surrealism of it all."

"So, you don't trust that I can harbor true feelings for you?" Miranda didn't give any emotions away. Andy studied her closely, still trying to read her. Miranda's face was still, but her eyes shimmered a brilliant blue. And wait…there was a faint tremor in her lower lip. Oh, yes, and in her chin.

"I think you can do anything. Even have strong, true feelings for me." Andy smiled, if a bit wobbly. "Not that you've said anything about that. Really." Starting to feel pretty stupid and tangled up in her own reasoning, Andy cupped Miranda's cheek. "What I do know is how much I love you. No matter what, that won't change."

"I should hope not." Miranda placed her hand on top of Andy's holding it close against her face. "I happen to love you and the idea of saying this to you and not be certain—mmph…"

Andy had to kiss Miranda before she worked herself into another strange mood. She had a feeling Miranda had gone through some sort of metamorphosis when they made love just now. The look on her face just before she came had been a strange mix of terror and supplication. Andy wasn't sure how she'd realized she'd have to coax Miranda into letting go, but she did, and it worked. "See?" Andy said now, her voice mild. "I will have to wrap my brain around that it's the truth, and knowing your knack for patience, I got to be quick about it." She pushed her fingers into Miranda's white hair, lacing it through her fingers. "And just so you know, you're feelings aren't exactly written all across your face, but they're there. I can see them. What's more, I feel every emotion in the way you caress me."

"This makes me…relieved." Miranda slowly relaxed next to Andy. Her still slightly damp body was cooling off; so was Andy's. Tugging at the covers, Andy managed to wrap it around them.

"Now…" Miranda shifted a few pillows, making it even more comfortable to curl up. "We still have more to discuss, but to be honest; I'm not ready to do that now. I need to just…" Her voice trailed off and she waved her hand impatiently.

"Be in the moment?" Andy suggested.

"Something like that." Miranda hid her face against Andy's neck. "Be in the moment with you, to be exact."

That was probably the loveliest thing Miranda had ever said to her. Andy snuggled closer, nuzzled Miranda's hair, which held so much of the scent she associated with the woman she loved.

"Rest while you have the chance," Miranda murmured.

Andy frowned. What was that supposed to mean? "Huh?"

"We both need some rest, but I warn you, I'm not done with you yet." Miranda pressed her lips against Andy's neck. "Not by a longshot."

Smiling broadly once she caught on, Andy cupped Miranda's right breast under the covers and let her fingertips do a gentle little dance on the top of the suddenly hard nipple. "Likewise."

"Oh, God." Sounding out of breath again, Miranda slid a leg in between Andy's. "On the other hand, sleep is for the weak."

Chuckling, Andy pressed against Miranda's silky smooth thigh. "Are you telling me you need my assistance again?"

Miranda got up on her elbow and smiled down at Andy. A rare, genuine, and decidedly happy smile. "Don't I always?" She kissed her way down to Andy's breasts. "I have every faith in you, darling."

Andy felt Miranda's infamously lethal mouth give the most loving attention to her nipples. Soon all she could think and feel was Miranda and the love she expressed with each kiss, each touch.

Epilogue

Six months later

_Miranda_

Andrea hovered with her fingertip above the speaker button on her cell phone and looked apprehensively at Miranda. "Are you sure?" she mouthed. Miranda nodded briskly and tapped on Andrea's finger, thus engaging the speaker feature.

"Good evening, Mrs. Sachs," she said politely. "I'm glad we finally got the opportunity to talk."

"I can't imagine what we can possible have to say to each other," Mary Sachs said, her voice as cold as a Midwest winter night. "Still, Andy seems to think this might help."

"We have one common denominator, which I'm sure you agree on." Miranda paused. "Andrea."

"I didn't bring up my daughter with this future in mind—"

"Wait a minute, please. Surely you realize Andrea is twenty-five years old. An adult. Your job in bringing her up ended many years ago." Miranda spoke with the same polite tone. "Now's the time for you to enjoy all your hard work and be proud of the fine young woman you've raised."

"Now there's a word you haven't paid a lot of attention. Young. As in half your age. And a _girl._" Mary Sachs's voice was filled with vitriol.

"Yes, I know. And it worries me." Miranda saw Andrea flinch, but merely put her arm around her waist and held her close where they sat on the couch in the den. "Your daughter's mature nature is what makes this work, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I worry about the age gap."

"Really?" Mary sounded suddenly calmer. "I didn't realize this. And then there's the issue of children. Surely Andy wants children."

"She does. And we have talked about it." Miranda ran her thumb along Andrea's lower lip. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to make her happy. And just so we're clear, having a child with Andrea—nothing could make me feel more blessed."

"You—you're ready to take on motherhood again? At your age?"

"My daughters are eleven. I'm quite used to children."

"Eleven?" Mary sounded baffled. "How come I didn't know that? I thought they were Andy's age. I—"

"Mom! I've told you about the twins several times. This is yet another example of when you have a preconceived idea. You don't listen."

"Oh." Mary sounded suitably chastised. Miranda knew Andrea's mother was still opposed to her and Andrea as a couple, but Andrea had grown a lot in the way she dealt with her mother.

"The reason you know very little of my children from the papers is because I put any tabloids out of business that dare to mention them." Miranda knew Mary still could've found out the information about Caroline and Cassidy if she'd tried, but there wasn't a whole lot about her daughters readily available to just Google.

"I think that's commendable," Mary said, sounding a bit dazed now. Had she perhaps not expected Miranda to be so protective about her daughter? "It's a pity you don't have the same approach when it comes to them writing about Andy."

"Andrea is a grown woman. She knew what she was getting into, having seen what the press around me can be like. Still, she thought the media circus we've been subjected to worth it. Apparently." Miranda smiled gently as Andrea kissed her cheek and curled up closer.

"Fair enough, I suppose," Mary said darkly. "Just so you know, we've had reporters here as well, asking about Andy's background. I turned them away, but sometimes they camp out on our side walk.

"As long as I hold this position, I'm going to be a public figure. The day I step down from being editor-in-chief of Runway, they won't bother with us. At least not as much."

A muted gasp in stereo proved Miranda had taken both Sachs women by surprise.

"What?" Andrea whispered.

"You're retiring?" Mary sounded dumbfounded.

"Not yet. If and when Andrea has a baby, it's time for me to change my career path." Miranda watched Andrea's eyes glaze over with tears. Her heart ached at the beauty of the young woman next to her.

"You never—you never said." Andrea pressed her fingers against her trembling lips. "For me?"

"For us. For our family." Miranda's heart ached, but in a good way, at the sight of the joy spreading over Andrea's features. They'd talked about children, both existing ones and the one they might have together one day, but Miranda hadn't been ready to discuss her professional future. Not until now when Mary Sachs needed some not-so-gentle nudges. Miranda couldn't care less about the woman, personally, but Andrea needed to be on decent terms with her parents, or at least her mother in particular. Being ever the pragmatic, Miranda was ready to do what it took to make this happen.

"Mom," Andrea said now, her voice steady despite the fat tears running down her cheeks, "I love Miranda. I've told you this over and over the last few months, ever since Miranda and I decided to be open about our relationship. You've fought me every step of the way and so the reason we called you together tonight is…well, this is your chance."

"What do you mean, Andy?" Mary Sachs voice trembled.

"I'm not going to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you to be part of my happiness, or my life, so you have a decision to make. So does Dad. I'm not holding onto much hope when it comes to him, but I really want you in my life, Mom. Miranda, the twins and I are a family now. You can choose to be a part of it—or not."

Miranda's heart broke for the way Andrea looked as she addressed her mother. As strong as her voice was, Andrea's face was pale and she clung to Miranda as if she was the only place of safety while tossed around in this emotional turmoil.

"An ultimatum," Mary said. It wasn't a question. Andrea had made her stance pretty clear.

Miranda wanted to hiss at Andrea's mother that none of this had been necessary if she and her husband hadn't cornered Andrea and made her feel less of a person in more ways than she could count. Instead she kept her mouth shut and merely held the woman she'd vowed to love, keep, and protect. Andrea would've scoffed at the latter, but the way Miranda saw it, Andrea's heart was too big, too forgiving, which of course was ironic as no doubt those were necessary traits for Andrea to deal with Miranda.

"I can't go on without you in my life, Andy," Mary said, sounding choked up. "No matter what our differences have been, or still are, you're my daughter. I'm controlling. I know that. I can't promise your father will feel the same way, but if we can have a truce and start over, you and I, perhaps…" She sobbed quietly.

"Don't cry, Mom," Andrea begged. "You must realize I want you in my life too. Our lives. Miranda's girls have asked a lot about you as they only have paternal grandparents."

Miranda jerked and Andrea patted her knee reassuringly.

"They have? Really?" Mary's voice displayed complete surprise.

"They sure have. I'll send you a few pics of them. The one with the small birthmark near her left eyebrow is Cassidy. The other one is Caroline, of course. They're scary smart, Mom. Way smarter than I was at that age…"

Miranda leaned back as Andrea kept describing her children to Mary in ways she'd never heard anyone else talk about them before. It only took her a few moments to realize what she was listening to—another proud parent.

_Andrea_

**Journal entry**

_Miranda's asleep next to me, which hardly ever happens. She's usually the night owl, sitting here on the bed with the Book, and, no doubt, watching me sleep. She says it helps her focus. Ha. She just likes to know I'm breathing and that I'm safe. _

_Tonight, after talking with Mom for hours, no wonder Miranda's exhausted—and that I can't settle down and get some sleep. Thank God it's Sunday tomorrow, no going into work. _

_I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what Miranda retiring from Runway. She did expand on her reasoning after we hung up with Mom. She wouldn't stop working altogether, thank God, just not remain in such a demanding position. Apparently she's being headhunted all the time by publishers and other corporations. That doesn't surprise me, but in my mind she's so connected with Runway, I can't imagine her being anywhere else. _

_Tonight I have the rare opportunity to watch her sleep and it makes my heart ache. She looks so young where she's all curled up next to me, and it makes me think of what she told Mom—that the age gap between us worries her. She's so protective and I'm going to have to make it my job to protect her right back._

_Right now, at this point in my life, I can safely say I've never been happier. Miranda and I love each other. The twins and I get along really well. My new job at the Mirror is shaping up. And Mom's turned a corner, judging from today. _

_Tomorrow I'm going to make Miranda breakfast in bed._

Andy closed her laptop and tucked it under the bed. Fluffing her pillows, she snuggled down next to Miranda. Immediately, a slender arm emerged from under the covers and circled her waist, pulling her close.

"Lights," Miranda murmured.

"Got it." Andy clicked the remote on her night stand and turned off the two bedside lamps.

"Better. Go to sleep." Miranda shifted and pulled Andy onto her shoulder.

Andy smiled broadly into the darkness, so happy and content all she could answer was, "Yes, Miranda."

END


End file.
